Author's Note: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially RussellGirl15! Thanks for pointing that out, it's been fixed :-) If anyone has any better ideas for a summary, please tell me! Just to clear something up for someone who chose to email me instead of reviewing: The evening which Harry is reading the letters is the 29th, and the next day is the 30th. Hedwig was carrying letters from Ron and Hermione and Hedwig was carrying letters from Hogwarts and Hagrid. The anonymous owl was carrying – do you really think I'm going to tell you?
RISING FROM THE ASHES
Chapter Two – Jaded Emerald Eyes
"I didn't know we had an attic!" Harry exclaimed.
"Well, now you do," Aunt Petunia replied begrudgingly. It was clear that cooperating with Harry was going against her wishes, and he couldn't fathom why she was doing it in the first place.
She pushed open the sliding door on the ceiling, and Harry followed her up the ladder, being unpleasantly reminded of Divination lessons.
"Close the door behind you," Aunt Petunia called, and Harry did as he was told.
Aunt Petunia pulled on a string that had been dangling from the ceiling, and a single bare light bulb lit up, dimly illuminating the tiny room. It was empty, with the exception of a thick layer of dust and a single box in the center of the attic.
It was quite small, and encased in black velvet. A golden latch kept it closed, and red swirls decorated the cover.
"What's in there?" Harry asked curiously.
"Be patient!" Aunt Petunia snapped. Harry rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
"Your mother left this in my possession," said Aunt Petunia, and it was clear she was not at all happy about it. "I would've thrown it away or sold it if that old wiz…man…hadn't forced me to keep it for you all these years. I was left instructions to save it for a few days before you turned seventeen. So here you go." She walked over to the box, picked it up, and shoved it unceremoniously into Harry's arms. She marched across the attic and climbed down the staircase, leaving Harry staring at the box in shock. His aunt's words echoed in his ears.
Your mother left this in my possession…
Hands shaking, Harry slowly opened the box. Upon seeing what was inside, he let out an audible gasp.
It was a ring, the most beautiful ring Harry had ever seen. The finger band was flawless gold, and even after all the years of being hid away in the box, it had not lost its luster. But what caught Harry's attention was the stone. It was a single emerald, but from that emerald, magic and energy seemed to radiate, permeating throughout the room, and Harry could feel an odd tingling sensation spreading across his flesh.
As Harry gazed at the jewel, transfixed, he felt the energy that coursed so strongly throughout the room begin to spread throughout his body. He felt the tips of his fingers tingle, and jumped in surprise, nearly dropping the ring.
As he fumbled with it, Harry noticed an inscription on the inside of the golden band. His parent's initials were inscribed, with a plus sign between them, and after that, an arrow that indicated they had given birth to Harry, as his initials followed the arrow. Below that, Harry's initials had been carved once again, with a plus sign and a place for another set of initials to be engraved, followed by an equal's sign and a heart.
Harry felt his emerald green eyes prickle and well up with tears. This ring had belonged to his mother. It was the only relic of hers that he had. It appeared that when the ring had been made, his parents had left a place for him to engrave his name along with his love's.
Ginny... Harry thought despairingly. He shook his head sadly. After a heartfelt moment, Harry noticed an old sheet of parchment folded in the box. Tucking the ring into his pocket, Harry unfolded the parchment and read,
October 24th
Dearest Harry,
If you are reading this letter, it means you are almost of age, but your father and I, sadly, are not with you.
We would have loved to see you grow up to be the man you are today, but that is not possible. Because of a prophecy that was made before your birth, a malevolent wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort has his mind set on killing you. Spies within his ranks have carried information that he is planning an attack. Even though we have had security spells cast upon our house, and we have a secret keeper, there is still a risk of something happening to us.
I have placed an ancient magical protection spell upon you, Harry, with the help of Albus Dumbledore. If I sacrifice myself to save you, you will have my love and protection in your blood until you come of age.
As I am writing this, your father and I are in hiding, and you are asleep in your crib. You always look so peaceful while asleep, Harry. You look just like your father, but you have my eyes.
Harry, I hope that when you are reading this, you have some knowledge of your father and I. Knowing my sister and that brute of a husband of hers, they will tell you nothing. Ideally, Sirius, Remus, or Peter will be taking care of you if something happens to us but not you, and I'm sure they will have plenty of stories to tell.
But I digress. The purpose of giving you this ring is to protect you, even if we can't anymore. When your true love wears it on her finger, you will both have an ancient magic spell of protection upon you. Alas, it will not keep you from dying, but it will keep you in good health and good spirit.
With love,
Your mother
Harry sat down on the dusty wood floor with a thump, in a state of complete shock.
She knew… he thought wonderingly. She knew that someone was going to betray them, she just didn't know who. He felt his hatred of Peter Pettigrew increase tenfold at that moment. None of the misery in his life would have happened if it had not been for one rat ... so, the real one to blame was Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail. Wormtail was the name that the three Marauders, Harry's father, Lupin, and Sirius, had given him.
Why did they trust him? Harry wondered angrily. He felt a burning, streaking hatred rush through him. If Wormtail had not betrayed his parents, Voldemort would never have found them, if Voldemort had not found them, they wouldn't be dead, If they weren't dead, Harry would have grown up living a normal life, with no scar, no Rita Skeeter, no sneaking into Hogsmeade, no Triwizard Tournament. He could have been with Ginny … He would have had a perfect life, had it not been for two words: Avada Kadavra.
Clutching his mother's ring to his chest, Harry tried to concentrate on the good in his life. If he allowed these dark thoughts to take him over, eat him up inside, he would just sit around all day and wallow in his misery. He could not let that happen.
If I want to defeat the monster that caused this misery, Harry thought fiercely, I have to fight. I can't sit around feeling sorry for myself; others have lost loved ones too. I'm not the only one suffering.
Soon, yes, very soon, it would be Voldemort who suffered. Harry would make sure of that.
But the one Harry loved could never wear his mother's ring. Not when Voldemort was still out there. It was a twisted paradox; Ginny could not wear the ring while Voldemort still led his reign of terror if she were to stay safe, and yet the ring would help to protect her and Harry, but would not be needed after Voldemort fell from power.
…
After spending a few more heart-felt minutes in the attic, Harry went back to his room to read the remaining letters.
When he returned, he found that all the owls were still there, waiting patiently for him to read their letters, or in Hedwig's case, write a response.
Ron, Harry wrote,
The Muggles are treating me alright, and I will see you at 10:00 on the 1st.
Say hello to your family for me
-- Harry
Hedwig hooted impatiently.
"Just one more minute," Harry promised her, and picked up another sheet of parchment to write to Hermione.
Hermione,
Thanks for the birthday wishes. I will see you on the 1st
-- Harry
Harry felt a little guilty at the brevity of his letters, but what he really wanted to say to the pair of them he could not risk putting into a letter.
"Here you go," Harry held his responses to Hedwig, and opened his window. Hedwig took them in her beak and flew away, and Harry reached for the school letter. It was thinner than usual.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.
There is no need to purchase supplies; all textbooks will be provided this year
Yours sincerely,
Professor M. McGonagall
Headmistress
"I'm not going back." Harry insisted aloud, and cast it aside, reaching for Hagrid's letter. With a pang of sadness, Harry noticed the big wet tear marks scattered across the parchment. Hagrid had written this letter while crying.
Dear Harry,
Well, it's been decided. Hogwarts is going to reopen. Minerva's going to be Headmistress and me the Head of Gryffindor! Imagine that, eh? Who would've thought? Of course, Hogwarts won't be the same without Dumbledore. Not much will be. He was a great man, that Dumbledore. Now, the purpose of this letter isn't sadness, we've all had our regrets about Dumbledore's death, but if I know him he wouldn't want us to dwell on our sadness for too long. I've actually got some happy news for ye. Olympe and I are to be married. What with Bill and that Delacour girl's wedding, I started thinking how there might not be much time left for everyone, and we should enjoy the company of our loved ones while it lasts, and that goes for all of us.
See you in September,
-- Hagrid.
Harry felt a pang of guilt as he took in the implication Hagrid had left. But no, he couldn't reconsider, no matter how much he wanted to.
Hagrid was to be Head of Gryffindor! And married! As he himself had said, who would've thought…Harry smiled in happiness, glad that Hagrid seemed to be recovering from his grief at Dumbledore's death.
Dumbledore…someone Harry had been frantically pushing out of his mind ever since term had ended.
He missed the company and wisdom of the old wizard dearly, and found himself going back on his promise, wishing that things could be different. But then, Dumbledore's words of advice swam to the front of his mind.
It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live, Harry.
Dumbledore was right.
He had people on his side. To care for, to fight for.
To live for.